Aiden stared at his phone, Rosalie's message blinking like a flare in the dark. "We need to talk."
Jessica's texts buzzed moments after, relentless in their hopeful rhythm, and the gang's chatter about La Push threatened to pull him into that wild, unpredictable night.
He swallowed hard, the weight of it pressing down. He wanted to clear the air with Rosalie—set things straight, create some space between himself and Jessica's clingy demands. But the La Push trip was an escape he needed too, a chance to breathe outside these tangled walls.
Decision made, he typed back quick: I'm heading to La Push in the morning. After that, we talk.
The words felt like a promise—and a warning.
Tomorrow, he'd face the waves, the forest, the restless energy of the coast. And then, Rosalie.
Because right now, he needed to keep his footing before he could untangle the storms inside.
The wind bit off the water, turning the ocean into frothing white caps. The Forks group had settled near a pile of driftwood logs, the air alive with scattered conversation and bursts of laughter. Mike was tossing pebbles toward a makeshift target while Jessica stuck close to Bella, adjusting the collar of her coat.
Aiden stood slightly apart, hands in his pockets, watching the horizon with a distant look, as if the sea reminded him of something no one else could see.
Angela crouched with her camera, trying to find a good angle of the waves without getting sand in the lens.
Bella glanced toward the cliffs, her voice carrying low beneath the breeze. "Have you ever seen the Cullens come out here?"
Jessica scoffed. "To La Push? Please. No way."
"Why not?" Bella asked, brows drawn.
Mike chimed in as he tossed another rock. "They never come out here. Like, ever. Someone said it's because of the reservation.
"Wait, seriously?" Bella frowned.
Jessica leaned closer to Bella, lowering her voice just enough to be conspiratorial. "Wait. Don't tell me… you actually invited Edward Cullen today?"
Bella hesitated, instantly feeling the attention shift her way. Angela looked up from her camera. Mike froze mid-throw, the rock tumbling from his hand.
Bella shrugged, trying to play it off. "I mean… yeah. Kind of. I mentioned it."
That was all it took.
Jessica snorted. "You invited a Cullen? To the beach? On the rez? That's like inviting Dracula to a garlic festival."
Even Angela couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips.
"Hey, I just thought it might be nice to include him," Bella muttered.
Mike laughed. "Good luck with that. Those guys don't even go to lunch with the rest of us. I don't think I've ever seen them eat. Or blink."
Jessica chimed in with mock-seriousness, "They're allergic to fun. And sunshine. And other people."
"They're just private," Bella said, but her voice lacked conviction. Truthfully, she didn't understand the Cullens either. Not yet.
"They're weird," Mike said flatly.
Jessica made a face. "Low bar, much?"
Angela tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to Bella. "Honestly, it's kind of impressive you even talked to him. He barely talks to anyone."
Bella exhaled, her mind tugged again toward the parking lot, the van, that moment when Edward had been… impossible.
Aiden didn't say a word. He watched them all—the easy laughter, the teasing about Edward and the Cullens, the way they painted those pale faces like creatures from some ghost story. The gang's words were light, but underneath, he sensed something else—unease, suspicion. He wasn't rushing to judge, but the tension was there, thick as the salty air.
Weird? Yeah, that's one word for it, he thought, eyes drifting to the crashing waves. Everyone's weird in their own way. These pale faces? Just another kind of different. Everyone here keeps their distance, and maybe they've got good reasons.
But even as he watched, his mind wasn't just on the Cullens or the gang's chatter. There was something else tugging at him—Rosalie. That text from her still sat heavy in his pocket, unanswered. What did she want to say? Was it an olive branch or a warning?
She wants to talk. The thought pulled tighter in his chest. And I don't know if I'm ready for whatever that means.
He shoved his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets, feeling the cold bite through the fabric, and stared back out at the restless sea.
Maybe it's better to keep watching. Keep waiting. Whatever comes next, I'll face it on my terms.